The Philosopher's Tool
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The oars struck the water in unison and with a monstrous 
heave were pulled up and out and propelled the ship 
forward. In time to the rhythm beaten out on the huge 
oxhide drum, the rowers once again followed the same 
cycle that ensured that even when the wind was low the 
business of sea-trade continued.

Chitineus watched the merchant ship with fascination as it 
sailed out of the harbour. Just as the tool of the musician 
was his instrument, in this case, the drum, the tool of the 
seaman's trade was his muscles. And what muscles! 
Chitineus relished the sight of the lithe muscular sailors, 
naked of course, who either rowed the ship or managed its 
sails. Such bodies. Such masculine pride. Those limbs and 
loins tuned by the rigours of the sea and the daily exercise 
of their profession. They were tools to be proud of. Just as 
in a philosopher such as Chitineus the chief tool was the 
brain. And, of course, his five sensual organs: the most 
important being his eyes and the sight they bestowed on 
him.

But the sensual organ most enjoying the sight of the naked 
sailors was that between his legs. It twitched and jerked 
beneath the woven wool of his chiton. Of course, this was 
also a tool of value but for a philosopher it was more of a 
distraction from the task of understanding the world and 
its intrinsic truths. There may be no harm in gaining 
pleasure, as do all spirited men, from the sight of the 
naked bodies working on the ships. Indeed, what man 
would not be aroused by the sight of the muscular fellows 
on the docks lifting the huge baskets, gourds and 
amphorae? 

There was one workman that caught Chitineus' eye. A 
bundle of taut hard muscle and noble aspect, who carried 
not only a huge amphora over his shoulder as he strode 
over the plank to the ship but swinging free between his 
legs was a penis that was the envy of all sea-faring folk. 
Still flaccid but prouder than that of most men when erect 
and one which directed most men's hands to their own 
organs which they would rub and pummel with excitement 
at the sight of this proud organ on such a magnificent 
body. Was anyone else so blessed?

Well, thought Chitineus, there indeed was one other and 
that was himself. 

His desire for male flesh had become overwhelming and, 
notwithstanding that where he stood on the dock-side he 
could be seen by slaves and plebeians, he parted his 
garments to expose his huge erect penis to the elements. 
There was only one thing to do with his proud manhood 
when faced with such absolute temptation and that was to 
hold it erect and belabour it with wrist and fingers until the 
proof of his virility poured forth on the marble pavement.

However, before his seed was spent, he felt a second hand 
clasp his penis and from behind him a beard brush his 
neck and shoulder. It was Phoenictetes, a fellow 
philosopher, whom Chitineus often fucked in the company 
of friends.

"Which fellow catches your fancy?" Phoenictetes asked his 
friend, sliding his grip up and down the penis in long 
confident strokes.

Chitineus looked towards the fellow carrying the amphora 
but all that could be seen of him was his arched back and 
tight buttocks as he arranged the goods on the deck of the 
ship. He chose to evade the question. "Why they all do," 
he said. "It is a splendid sight indeed to see the workman 
at his toil..."

"...Just as it is to fuck him at his play," laughed 
Phoenictetes. He clasped his friend's penis firmly. "And 
this is also a splendid sight. It would be a shame for you to 
waste the juice of your endeavour on the bare stone upon 
which we walk." He grabbed his friend around the waist. 
"Let us disrobe and fuck. And then afterwards we may 
contemplate the beauty of labour without the distraction of 
our lust."

"Well said, my dear Phoenictetes," laughed Chitineus. He 
pulled off his chiton and handed it his slave, 
Dunderopolos, and stood in the street naked but for his 
sandals. The philosopher was a handsome man in his 
prime, with just a few hairs turned grey and a body kept 
lithe and fit from frequent sex with his slaves and peers. 
"Against the pillar, my friend, and I shall release the seeds 
of my desire inside you."

"There is no better place!" agreed Phoenictetes who 
handed his clothes to his own slave, Psymnopides, and 
leaned forward against the pillar, his arse proffered ready 
for the pleasure of penetration.

Of course, when two noblemen, especially scholars, 
should wish to fuck each other, their slaves are as 
important as anyone else. Dunderopolos helped part 
Phoenictetes' anus with Psymnopides' assistance and with 
his spit lubricated his master's penis so that the ingress 
would be the more pleasurable for both partners. And 
during Chitineus' thrusts, he attended to his master's 
satisfaction by licking and stroking his hard testicles. It 
was clear that he enjoyed his labours, as his penis was as 
stiff and proud as Phoenictetes', although nowhere near as 
heroic or vigorous as his master's. However, 
Dunderopolos' phallus was not assisted by any other hand 
in coming to a spasm of ejaculation, as Psymnopides was 
engaged in sucking his master's penis while Chitineus 
thrust steadily and rhythmically into him.

Relief came suddenly for everyone except for Chitineus. 
His penis was still rampant when everyone else had 
ejaculated and Phoenictetes' anus did not drip the pearls of 
semen that would announce that Chitineus had completely 
sated his amorous intent. However, so as not to embarrass 
his master, Dunderopolos smeared his own spilt semen on 
Phoenictetes' buttocks so that those watching would 
believe that they had witnessed a proper consummation.

The two philosophers then walked towards Chitineus' villa 
arm-in-arm and naked discussing the issues of ethics and 
foreign policy that troubled them, Chitineus' still erect 
penis leading the way.

The philosopher tried to ignore the issue of his persistent 
tumescence, through which it was painful to piss and 
which only subsided in degree, not in totality. But try as he 
would, it was an unwanted distraction from his thoughts. It 
was difficult to follow the tortuous paths of logical 
discourse with Phoenictetes and young Grinopheles, who 
also chose to visit that day. His manhood intervened in his 
need to conclude his argument with a Quod Eratum 
Demonstrandum or a Reductio Ad Absurdum, which 
discussions continued unresolved over good olives and 
wine. And when he and his philosopher friends took each 
other physically, Grinopheles' penis inside his anus while 
he once again penetrated that of Phoenictetes, his exertions 
again failed to resolve themselves as they should in a 
satisfactory discharge of semen.

Indeed, even after fucking his favourite Galatian boy-
slave, Phridistotlos, until his anus was bleeding, there was 
no release. Dunderopolos had to admit to his master that 
there was no viscous cream between the boy's cheeks. And 
this had before been the most reliable source of 
gratification for Chitineus who had a penchant for young 
flesh. 

However, as he was able to continue fucking his friends 
and slaves after all other penises were spent, Chitineus was 
not sure whether his persistently erect phallus was a 
blessing or a curse. After fucking Grinopheles who was in 
turn plying at Phridistotlos' tight anus, he decided that now 
was the time to retire. The slaves helped him towards his 
bed, where tonight he chose to rest with one of the kitchen 
boys, Coutleros, whose arse he'd not fucked for several 
days. He bade farewell to Grinopheles and Phoenictetes, 
who were too fatigued to make their way to their own 
homes and chose instead to accept the older philosopher's 
invitation that they should sleep in his home and to have 
the pick of any of his slaves should they feel inclined for 
further carnal pleasure.

Chitineus hoped that when he awoke the following day his 
penis would have at last deflated. However, he suspected 
otherwise after his failure from an hour or more of 
battering at Coutleros' anus for it to subside before sleep 
finally overwhelmed him. His penis remained stubbornly 
tumid and only blood and excrement trickled from his 
slave's embattled arse. It was not his wish to bring harm to 
his slaves, whom he treated well, much better than the 
average citizen of wealth, so he compensated loyal 
Coutleros with a day off, but he himself was to have no 
respite from the obstinately persistent erection.

Despite the bravest attempts from his friends, Phoenictetes 
and Grinopheles, who tried to bring Chitineus to 
ejaculation with the assistance of Dunderopolos, there was 
no end to the philosopher's dilemma: one which seemed 
the more urgent after the pain he suffered in loosing the 
urine that had built up inside him. It was worse even than 
the agony of having two men fuck him simultaneously, but 
that was a pain brought upon him to satisfy his desire not 
in the expression of it. Besides, so inured to penetration 
was his anus now it took more than two penises to cause 
him any lasting pain.

"What can we do?" wondered a frustrated Grinopheles, 
whose penis was now so worn out from his efforts that not 
even Cupid could have aroused him from his torpid 
indolence. 

"We must seek advice from an oracle or a soothsayer," 
suggested an almost equally exhausted Phoenictetes, who 
tugged desultorily at his flaccid cock and enviously 
admired Chitineus' unquenchable manhood.

"I would suggest rather a physician," said the philosopher. 
"This is a matter of physic and the physician is the best 
qualified for such matters. As you would consult a 
goatherd on the herding of goats, a merchant on the 
purchase of goods and a philosopher on mathematics and 
ethics, so a physician is the man who has the tools 
appropriate for physical affliction..."

"But might this not be a gift from the gods rather than an 
affliction of the flesh?" remarked Grinopheles, who at this 
moment would dearly like to have such an ailment now 
that he could see Chitineus' boy-slave Phridistotlos 
hovering in the background, naked as all slaves were in the 
private quarters, and walking with some awkwardness 
after the previous day's ministrations.

"A gift this might be," said Chitineus sternly, "to those 
whose desire is merely to have carnal pleasure and whose 
destiny is to fuck as many people and as often as they can. 
Alas! I am not such a person. The tool I wish to refine is 
my mind and its mental acuity. It is a matter of little value 
to a philosopher to be able to bring sexual ecstasy to 
whomsoever he should wish to fuck, when what he most 
needs is to consider the ways of the world and the 
machinations of the divine. Thus I am truly afflicted and 
relief for me would be for my erection to subside so that 
once again I am no longer constantly distracted by the urge 
to fuck every man's arse and to have a man's hand clutch at 
my throbbing member."

"In that case, we should see Diderostocres," suggested 
Phoenictetes. "He has soft hands and a sceptical approach 
to the healing arts. He never chooses a course of medic 
until he is sure it is the right one. Furthermore, he has a 
very accommodating arse."

The three philosophers followed Phoenictetes' suggestion 
and walked together through the city streets dressed 
smartly in their chiton and himation to the physician's 
hovel on the outskirts of the town. Diderostocres was not a 
wealthy man. His parents had been slaves and he had 
gained his skill only through great study and dedication 
over the years, whilst also earning a living as a butcher, 
with which occupation he shared many of the same tools 
of the trade. The trudge to this part of the town took the 
philosophers past beggars and vagrants, many of whom 
offered their arses to the noblemen in the hope of a silver 
coin in payment for their services. However, no gentleman 
of means would ever be so desperate for manly flesh when 
there were so many willing slaves at their disposal.

The physician clasped Chitineus' erect penis and took its 
shining purple glans into his mouth. He ran his tongue 
over its tip and his hands up and down its length. As he 
continued his ministrations, he graduated towards taking 
as much of the penis as he could in his mouth and pushing 
it to the back of his throat, whilst at the same time 
lubricating it with saliva that streamed down the length of 
the shaft. The spittle trailed between the physician's hands 
and mouth and formed a lattice on Chitineus' proud thicket 
of pubic hair. Occasionally, the physician would pull the 
penis out of his mouth and chew gently on the 
philosopher's testicles whilst vigorously pumping the penis 
with his hands.

While Diderostocres continued to give succour, 
Phoenictetes and Grinopheles sat on two chairs that had 
been politely vacated by two patients of lesser status who 
had politely departed when the philosophers arrived. One 
of these had been a man who had been bleeding profusely 
from a wound inflicted by a bronze axe-head and had left a 
puddle of blood on the floor. The two men felt 
uncomfortable in the small hovel, surrounded by the 
hanging carcasses of field-fowl and hare, while their slaves 
sat outside in the muddy unpaved track in the company of 
swine and domestic hens. Very rarely did a man of letters 
and learning ever need to walk down roads such as these 
that stank of sewerage and where most men wore no 
clothes, not from pride in their masculinity but to spare 
their vestments unnecessary wear and tear.

At last, the physician had to admit defeat. He held 
Chitineus' penis in his hand, the trail of saliva falling like a 
damaged spider web between his arm and the length of 
stubborn virility, and smiled weakly at the philosophers.

"I have done what I can short of surgery," the physician 
told his venerable company. "And it has all been to no 
avail. There are few better men than I at the skill of 
bringing a man to ejaculate. I have been known to bring 
three men off simultaneously with my hands and mouth 
whilst fucking a fourth. There are many in the city that can 
vouch for my skill in this matter, either as patients or 
witnesses. But I confess that in this case I have been 
defeated."

"It is no matter," said Chitineus, handing the physician a 
splendid silver decadrachm. "You have done well, but 
unfortunately my affliction is too great for even your 
tonsils to alleviate."

Whatever Chitineus' affliction was called nobody knew. 
The physician had no name for it, nor did any of the other 
experts the philosophers consulted on this and the 
following days in their attempts to bring an end to a curse 
that many might initially think was a blessing. And that 
was perpetual tumescence on an already well-endowed 
man. A superabundance of masculinity when abundance 
alone would have been quite enough.

Chitineus was persuaded to see oracles, soothsayers, 
mystics, leeches, priests and other physicians and although 
each consultant addressed his affliction with different 
words and different descriptions, there was a remarkable 
congruence in how they treated it. Chitineus' penis had 
never before been so sucked, licked, pummelled, 
massaged, beaten, flailed, chewed or manhandled. Saliva 
dripped from it. The skin was red and raw. The glans 
shone but weakly after so much tongue and throat had 
been applied to it. 

In between these therapies, Chitineus sought relief in the 
arses of his fellow philosophers, his slaves and his friends. 
In all this, although he was exhausted?perspiration 
blinding his eyes and pouring off his nostrils onto 
whoever's back or chest was beneath him?his penis 
remained forever steadfast, ready for more and thoroughly 
insatiable. And, as his misery persevered from one day to 
the next and all remedies tried, the advice given him 
became more and more outlandish and bizarre.

"Perhaps you should have chosen to father a child," 
remarked a priest whose beard tangled in Chitineus' pubic 
hair as he sucked and gobbled at the stubborn tumescence. 

Chitineus shuddered. "That is a supplication too far," he 
remarked and pointedly paid the priest only the minimum 
agreed fee. Philosophers were born for higher things than 
to pollute their bodies by the too-close proximity of a 
lesser kind. Only in the company of other men could one 
hope to aspire to pure thought and contemplation.

The philosopher tried remedies to his predicament that did 
not involve his penis being used for sexual gratification 
based on the evidence that since sex did not appear to 
lessen his penis' vigour then other activities might do so. 
He dipped his penis in the cold water of a running stream. 
He ran naked through the open plains. He swam across 
rivers. He sat to his waist in olives and fish-heads. But his 
penis remained as it always was: ready and poised for 
action and more than capable of taking any man's arse.

"This is ridiculous!" complained the philosopher. "I can 
get no work done. My studies on geometry, aesthetics, 
politics and metaphysics have come not one whit further 
forward."

"Perhaps someone has cursed you!" remarked one of his 
friends, who was not a philosopher but retained many 
superstitious beliefs.

"Even those who believe that to be true had only one 
remedy for my predicament," Chitineus said. "And that is 
the same as those who did not believe in demonic 
possession. Whatever has taken control of my penis has 
not told anyone how it should be dispossessed."

Chitineus was almost resigned to a lifetime of unwanted 
tumidity when he happened to pass by the harbour again, 
arm-in-arm with Phoenictetes.

"Wasn't it here that I was first struck down by this bane?" 
he remarked to his friend.

"Indeed, I do believe it was," said Phoenictetes. 

Chitineus looked about him at the seaman on the ships and 
the hands on the dock carrying baskets of olives, sacks of 
wine, nets of fish, and exotic furs. He had endured so 
much carnal attention from his friends, slaves and 
consultants that even the bronzed lithe muscular frames of 
the naked men made him feel weary, but not so much that 
it lessened the erection he sported under his chiton and 
which was plainly visible from the tented hood that 
protruded ahead of him. In fact, the more he contemplated 
the landscape, rather than lose its vigour it began to jerk 
with new excitement.

"I have a thought," he said to his friend, parting his clothes 
to let his penis swing free in the warm air. "When I 
became so fatally aroused on that day, it was at the sight of 
a dock labourer of most proud proportion. He was truly an 
Adonis. He aroused my penis with a liveliness that hasn't 
deserted me. Perhaps this man by being the proximate 
cause of my dilemma might also be the means to its end."

"A mere labourer!" gasped a scandalised Phoenictetes. 
"When the best physicians, medics and mystics have 
foundered? When your equals in learning and culture have 
failed? This does not make sense."

"I am a desperate man," said Chitineus, taking 
Phoenictetes' hand and placing it on his erect member, so 
that he could feel the twitching of fresh blood along its 
engorged veins. "And such is my desperation that I shall 
resort to desperate measures."

It was a matter of many hours investigation conducted by 
Chitineus' slave, Dunderopolos, which led at last to the 
worker who had first aroused the philosopher. His name 
was Chorazineus, a fellow whose family had been many 
generations in the city of his birth. Close to, he was an 
even more splendid fellow than he seemed from the 
distance, and not just because he bore such a large penis, 
which although flaccid promised to gain at least the same 
dimensions as the philosopher's when fully aroused. His 
face had a truly noble aspect not at all in keeping with his 
lowly birth. His jaw was square, his eyes penetrating, his 
forehead high and his nose straight. He was undoubtedly 
the chosen model for many a sculpture.

"So, what is it that I should do?" Chorazineus asked when 
presented to the philosopher and stared directly at the erect 
proof of masculinity that was so proudly displayed.

"I don't know," Chitineus admitted. "My penis has been 
fellated as none has ever been fellated before. I have 
fucked the arse of every nobleman and slave in this town 
who will have me. I have consulted with all but demons 
and witches."

"Then, the only thing I can suggest is a length of cock up 
your arse that is longer than any cock you've ever had the 
pleasure of accommodating there before," said 
Chorazineus roughly, grasping the philosopher's penis with 
one hand and stroking his own huge member to life with 
his other hand. "I have fucked many a man and boy, from 
here to the furthest reaches of the Hellenic world, and no 
one has yet been unsatisfied. My spunk has dripped over 
the eyes and mouth of scholars, kings and tyrants. I have 
impaled arses of every colour and consistency. It is a bad 
day when there are not three or more souls who have 
known my prick inside them."

"And where will you fuck me?" Chitineus asked, looking 
around him at the uneven ground and most of all at 
Chorazineus' penis which, true to his word, was now as 
long and erect as the philosopher's own.

"Here," he said. "And now."

And with that, he grabbed the philosopher and pressed his 
stubbled cheeks against the philosopher's more carefully 
sculpted beard so their tongues crashed together whilst not 
relinquishing at all his grip on Chitineus' penis.

In all the philosopher's years of love-making he had not yet 
been fucked with such roughness and such tenderness in 
equal measure as he was now. Never before had his arse 
entertained a penis that pushed so deep inside him?way 
beyond all previous limits of penetration. His penis was 
gripped firmly by the dock hand and there was no 
intercession from any of his servants. His skin became so 
moist from perspiration and effort that there was no need 
to lubricate his penis or anus with spittle to facilitate a 
painless penetration. And Chorazineus was relentless and 
tireless in his thrusting that endured far beyond the normal 
span of manly intercourse into a new realm of love-making 
that Chitineus had never before imagined. Even he, with 
his permanent erection, had not managed to prolong his 
love-making so much without abandoning it through 
fatigue or, in former days, by a welcome release of semen. 

To Phoenictetes and the others who watched with 
fascination, this was a new kind of fucking where a 
swarthy man of the earth sported his manhood to such an 
extent that he unmanned them all. Phoenictetes considered 
himself a man who knew how to fuck and was proud of his 
expertise in bringing pleasure to the most effete youth, the 
coarsest oaf and the most cultured sophisticate. But this 
man was a fucker of rare skill, a lover who was playing 
with Chitineus as a musician might a lyre. 

The other hands and sailors had seen all this before. Most 
of them had already had the pleasure of sex with 
Chorazineus, separately or together, and knew what he 
could do. Several of them openly masturbated as the 
lovemaking continued and sprayed their semen, as was 
traditional amongst superstitious sailors, on their boats, 
believing that a coating of sperm would bring them good 
luck. And so it was that every now and then, another sailor 
would disengage from the crowd clutching an erect penis 
twitching with the spasms of ecstasy and then stand by the 
waterside, sometimes actually in the water, and splatter the 
sides of the ship or boat in which they would next set sail.

When Chorazineus finally ejaculated, which he did with 
vim and vocal passion, a seemingly endless volume of 
semen spurted forth from his penis and sprayed on 
Chitineus' chest, face and arse. It was a miracle, of course. 
But the true miracle was not Chorazineus' prodigious 
virility, but rather the almost simultaneous release of 
semen from Chitineus' penis that spurted in almost the 
same volume, uncontrollably and everywhere. An arc of it 
rose into the air and fell neatly onto Phoenictetes' cheek. 

As he wiped the semen off his face with his fingers and 
relished the familiar taste in his mouth, he could see that 
the medicine dispensed by this uncommon commoner had 
been an unqualified success. Where before a huge 
protuberance had stood out from Chitineus' groin, there 
was now a smaller nutmeg of a thing: still larger than most 
men's but now more modest and less of a hindrance to the 
free flow of urine.

And this, of course, was what next followed from 
Chitineus' organ, which he directed at the water, careful 
not to splash the boats, as this would surely undo the good 
of pasting them with semen, of which pale streaks could 
still be seen.

"And what does this prove, my dear Chitineus," asked 
Phoenictetes of his philosopher friend.

Chitineus gasped and coughed, still bathed in his own 
perspiration and wearier than he would have been had he 
ran from Marathon to Athens. "What did you say?" he 
asked.

"What theory has this exercise demonstrated?" 
Phoenictetes asked. "What lessons can be drawn?"

"Lessons?" wondered the philosopher, who didn't look like 
he was in an especially contemplative state.

"Have you drawn conclusions relating to the tools of one's 
trade? Have you divined insights into the need to release 
one's carnal desires? Have you arrived at any profound 
theories from which we can all learn?"

"I really don't know," said Chitineus, rubbing his face with 
his hands and puffing with fatigue. "The only thing I can 
think of is that if you want to fuck someone, whoever that 
man might be, then do whatever possible to fuck him and 
don't fuck somebody else."